


Good Deeds

by yeaka



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/M, Female Bilbo, Ficlet, Oral Sex, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 07:12:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3240953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo stays up late, and Balin helps tire her out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Deeds

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Ficlet for anon’s “Balin relay loves to go down on fem!Bilbo, and she has no problem with having a dwarf who will duck under her skirt at any time. Lots of love if Bilbo feels like a little extra is in order to enjoy her evening reading by the fire, and all she have to do is beacon Balin over and lift her skirt a little.” request on [The Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/13429.html?thread=24634229#t24634229).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Most of the time, she’s _exhausted_. Even with the help of her pony, it’s difficult to keep up. It’s not just because they’re big, tall dwarves and she’s tiny with legs half their size, but they also spent their lives in hard labour, some even warriors, and Bilbo’s spent most of her time having tea and drawing maps. She’d sleep far longer than they want, if she could, but then there are other nights when she just doesn’t need as much, because they’re big, heavy things that take time to recharge, and she can spring back up at first light. Although, of course, she misses her sweet Bag End breakfasts.

This is one of those times when the rest of them are sleeping, and she figures she can last a little while longer. They’re kind enough to leave her the fire, while they retire over the other side of the logs, wrapped up in their sleep bags and dropping out like lights. Balin sits on a stump amidst them to keep watch, while Bilbo sits with her back to a log and her feet to the dwindling fire, a book unfolded in her lap. She has to hold it higher to squint through the dark at the words, but it’s an overall pleasant experience. It’s a good book, quiet but adventurous at once, just the way she likes them. 

The only downside is that this particular book is a gift from Elrond, which feeds her memories of their stay in the Last Homely House, a wonderful, beautiful place. And the book is set there, most notably around the large fountain in the wooded courtyard, which keeps making her think of when all her dwarves were swimming there. It gives her the unrelenting image of their huge, strong bodies stripped bare, dripping wet and flushed pink from the warmth, taut muscles and soft fat shimmering in the enchanted light of Rivendell. She tries to read the story itself and picture only the tale, but then Fíli’s cute bottom will rush through her head, Kíli’s inevitably following, Dwalin’s thick cock bobbing as he corrals them in and Bombur chuckling so the water licks at his round belly. Then it’s just a constant parade of naked, handsome dwarves, and she loses track of the words, drowning in her own dirty daydreams. 

When it becomes too much to take, Bilbo gives up. She folds the book closed, and she glances over her shoulder, spotting Balin through the dark. He’s watching her and smiles, which doesn’t surprise her anymore—he always seems to know when she’s in need. He’s the one that dotes on her the most, and he has his own special skills. 

She crooks her finger hopefully, trying to beckon him over. She can’t help but flush and look bashful, because she’s grateful, she really is, when he grins wider and hops off his stump. He always comes when she calls him.

He wanders through the mess of sleeping dwarves, stepping easily over the log her back’s against, and he sits down beside her, whispering so as not to rouse the others, “Can I help?” Before she’s given time to answer, he leans in to peck her cheek: just a small, sweet token of affection. He must know how aroused she is, can probably smell it in the air and see it on her face. She can’t help but shiver. 

She mumbles, “Yes please.” She makes it polite when really she’s very eager, and she puts the book aside, still hoping she’ll one day have the chance to return it to Elrond, read through and in good shape. 

For now, she spreads her legs, hiking up her short skirt to give more room. She still doesn’t wear shoes, but she’s accepted the covers the dwarves have given her, wrapped around her legs from her calves to her ankles. While she’s still rolling the hem of her skirt over her lap, Balin settles in between her legs and reaches for her panties. He’s careful with the thin lace, aware of just how delicate they are and how much importance she does still place on proper things. Once those panties are stretched halfway down her thighs, Balin unties the little bow on one of the sides, so the smooth fabric slips down and is easer to push out of the way. 

It gives him full room, and he lies down on the hard earth, sideways over one of her legs so as not to hit the fire. Then he thrusts his face between her legs. 

Bilbo gasps even before he’s touched her—his soft hair her prickles along her skin, his long beard dragging on the ground and his ears tickling her thighs. His warm breath ghosts over her, teasing at first, examining, like he always does, just soaking in the view. Then he presses a chaste, firm kiss against the tip of her slit, and Bilbo whines as his tongue peeks out to swipe over her clit. She has to bring one hand up to her face, clamping it tightly over her mouth, and the other hand reaches down to brush through his downy white hair. It isn’t so much to keep him in place as steady herself, and Balin chuckles softly, the movement rippling over her folds. 

Balin’s tongue then sets to work lapping down her pussy, laving flat along the other curves of her labia before worming in to traces the crinkled lines of her inner lips. His big nose pushes in against the top, nestled in the honey curls that bracket her pussy, occasionally rubbing into her clit when he bobs up and down. Balin licks all up and down, wetting her completely and heating her up, before he tilts his head and locks his mouth around the flesh poking just outside the red mouth. Careful with his teeth, he burrows in as far as he can, then _sucks_ on her, and Bilbo shivers in delight and moans into her palm, head tossing back. Balin is so very _good_ at this—he knows just what she likes and does everything to please her, and she’s glad she has the log to lean against, because otherwise she’d be squirming on the cold, hard ground and any not-quite-asleep dwarf would be able to see everything. Maybe they’d want a turn, too, if her fantasies are anything to go by, but then, Balin’s more than enough for her, and he never leaves her wanting. 

He switches to alternate between licking her and suckling on her, probing his tongue in deeper every time. It seems to go on forever, curling easily against her inner walls, lapping down the sides of her flesh, teasing both the puckered hole of her urethra and the soaking entrance of her vagina, fluctuating more and more open with each of his little licks. She can’t help but open wider, grow wetter, with all the stimulation, even though she knows he won’t put his cock in her—not here, not now; too noisy and messy when all their friends need sleep. But his tongue is quite enough, and soon his mouth’s clamped around her and his curled tongue is pushing into her pulsing track. It feels both strange and delightful, and Bilbo ends up folding over him, clutching tightly to his hair while her other hand muffles all her little cries. Balin fucks her deep with his tongue, so far inside her and surprisingly thick, firm, wet and delicious. It writhes against her walls while she trembles around him, and he grinds his upper lip into the exposed tip of her clit while he moves, hitting as many pleasure spots as he can. She almost begs for his fingers, too, maybe in her ass at the same time, but that would just lead to more, and she can’t, not here, although maybe if they were back at Bag End or Rivendell with a nice, comfy bed...

Balin pulls out only to nuzzle his whole face into her, kiss and suck her clit, her walls, run his teeth gently up and down her moist walls, and then he’s back inside, tongue pushing so far in only to slip back out, feeling around on each entrance. It’s all Bilbo can do to keep her hips from thrusting up into him. She’s humped Balin’s face before, overcome with pleasure, but that makes it harder for him, and she should be used to it by now; he’s pleasured her enough, so she tries to be good and sit still and behave, but it’s _so_ good. He treats her like a little Dwarven princess, and every lap of his tongue and rub of his lips and suction of his throat makes her quiver in delight. She strokes through his hair and wants to whimper his name and gush how much she adores this, but she doesn’t dare uncover her mouth for fear of screaming. 

He goes on for so long. Bilbo rides it out, deliberately holding back, and she doesn’t know how long she sits there with Balin tucked between her legs, but probably enough to pick her book back up and get a good chunk through. She doesn’t bother because she wouldn’t be able to concentrate. Her mind’s working now, yes, and she runs through a number of lovely scenarios, from riding Balin’s cock in the famed Erebor to sitting on Bofur’s face in Rivendell to running a private business in the back of Bag End, where Dwalin would stand outside and let only the bravest, worthiest dwarves in to fuck her hard against her dining table...

Then all of Bilbo’s fantasies are twisting into incoherency, mounting in heat and running together, and all she knows is Balin’s big tongue inside her, until she bucks forward and hunches her shoulders, screaming into her palm. She can feel her body clenching and releasing wildly against his mouth, and he laps at her all the way through it, kissing and licking while she grinds into his face and shivers and moans. 

He doesn’t stop until her body’s wracked through its last shudder, and she’s slumping down against the log, knees bending to let her thighs lift. She keeps holding her mouth, panting through her nose. Balin finally appears again, shuffling to sit up, his face red and wet and smiling. 

He wipes his mouth off on his arm, then digs a rag out of his pocket and ducks it between her legs, rubbing at her spent pussy. She whimpers at the coarse material, but she knows soft handkerchiefs here are hard to come by. Once he’s dried her off—though she still feels like her own juices are thickly wadded up insider her—he folds and tucks the rag back into his pocket, to be washed at the next stream and probably used again. 

He dutifully pushes her panties back up her thighs, even tying the little bow back in place, and she lifts her rear enough for him to slip them snugly back around her. The lace instantly clings to her folds, and she drops her skirt again before he can see it soak through. 

Finally, she drops her hand and murmurs, “Thank you.” With a gesture at his lap, covered in too much fabric to tell anything, she asks, “Shall I...?” She would, of course, return the favour, although she’s never had to yet. 

As usual, he tells her, “It’s fine.” And he bends over to kiss her forehead, mussing up her honeyed curls. Her smile stretches warm and wide, and he climbs up to his feet, brushing off his knees. 

With a final check that Bilbo’s alright, Balin climbs back over the log, returning to his post. Bilbo rests back, thoroughly loving all her dwarves, but especially her talented, kind Balin.


End file.
